L5r - scroll 06 - The Dragon

by Ree Soesbee

  "You have lied to the clan, and brought dishonor on our house. Your word means nothing."

  "You have already lost a daughter, with or without my lies. Even if I had saved her life on the battlegrounds today, she would have only charged the Crab again tomorrow. And the next dawn, and the next, until the entire Dragon Clan was slaughtered to please her mad quest. I will do what is necessary to save the clan, to save my family, and to save my father from her insanity." The young samurai stepped away, headed toward the tent flap with petty, angry strides. "I am daimyo now, Sukune-san. You are no longer my advisor." Daini made a slashing motion with his hand, cutting off the old man's protest. "Yukihera knows all the wisdom that you once held, and he will be a more fitting advisor for my new reign. The Dragon Clan is mine. Let the world mourn Hitomi as an honorable woman who died for her cause. Better that than to allow the Dragon to die for her revenge."

  As the tent flap closed, Sukune sank to his knees. The weight of his burden settled on his shoulders. Hitomi would die on the bloody soil at Beiden Pass, her flesh eaten by the beasts of the Dark God, and he would forever bear part of the blame for allowing the lie to be believed. They were all lost—Hitomi, Daini, and himself. Cursed for their dishonor, and for their weakness.

  "Daini, my son," he whispered brokenly, "What have you done to us all?"

  xxxxxxxx

  The woman's body was cold, but not yet dead. Scavengers scuttled about the battlefield, their howls and eerie cries lifting the hair on the samurai's neck. Men were still dying, and their moans drifted on the evening's last light within a cold, uncaring wind. Occasionally, one would scream—and the cry would be cut off, killed by creatures that feasted on the dying and dead. Necromancers lingered like smoke in the hills of Beiden Pass, working their foul magic on the bodies left behind. Others walked there as well, but their steps were silent, hushed by the shadow of the growing night.

  The man who walked through the shadows did not envy those who would fight on the morrow and see the dead faces of their own men. He knew the sorcery of the necromancers ... and he did not approve.

  Kneeling beside the woman, he looked for life within the twisted limbs. Her chest rose and fell faindy. Good. The bandage he had applied to her severed arm was red and hard with blood. Signs of death hung close around her, hovering like a crow's wings in flight. Even if she survived, she would be a cripple, broken and cut to pieces like so much rotten flesh. The world had no further use for her.

  Therefore, she would not be missed.

  He lifted her shattered form from the cold ground and cradled it in his arms, chanting the mantra of light and darkness. Where one could not go, the other thrived—and all shadow was alike, to him. His deep voice whispered beneath his mask, and his eyes closed. The air thickened, and darkness clustered about him in blankets of heat and the faint smell of decay. One word, another, and a step into the shadow. ...

  When the moon rose into a jealous sky, they were gone.

  OMENS

  Yukihera sat in the daimyo's tent, his noble brow furrowed in thought. Outside, the battle with the Crab had hardly begun; Hitomi had been slain in the opening salvo, the Mirumoto line had broken, and the Crab had become completely entrenched. From the outside, Beiden Pass was a losing battle, one that no samurai would have wished to join. To Yukihera, it was already the site of his greatest triumph ... and his destiny.

  From inside the Dragon commander's tent on the hillocks above the battlefield, Yukihera studied the maps of the batde. So many dead ... so many Dragon lost to this foolish war. Now the Mirumoto samurai were even less confident in their ability to find victory. Hitomi had been insane, but she had been a known quantity. Already, the troops of the Dragon guard whispered that his cousin, Daini, was not fit for the throne. He was only a boy, ten years younger than Yukihera, and

  already he was to lead them into war? Preposterous. The troops were nervous, facing a war with no general save a stripling who had barely traded his childhood toys for a sword.

  It was exactly as Mirumoto Yukihera had known they would respond.

  Outwardly, he appeared somber, thoughtful, even concerned. The flush on his thin features could be attributed to his eagerness, even excitement, at being taken into his lord's confidence. After all, the Mirumoto youth before him would need all the assistance he could find, if Daini were to keep his father's throne.

  With swift strides, Mirumoto Daini paced through the tent, turning this way and that as the silk walls barred his movements. Sweat beaded on the young boy's brow, and with an impatient hand, he fingered the enameled hilt of his elaborate katana. "He should have returned."

  "No, he is on time, and will be a bit longer. Meetings with the commanders go well," Yukihera lied smoothly. "You have the trust of the men."

  "Good." Daini looked no further than his cousin's words.

  "Do not worry, Daini-sama," Yukihera said smoothly. "Such unrest is common when a daimyo dies. It is even more common in times of war. This is both, and we must expect the men to be unsettled."

  "They admire you, Yukihera. You should talk to them. Tell them I am worthy."

  "I will, and I do, my daimyo. I spend a great deal of time with the men, I assure you."

  Daini paused in his pacing, considering Yukihera's words.

  For a moment the golden samurai thought that he had underestimated his cousin. Then, Daini seemed to shrug away the discontent, and Yukihera nodded in approval.

  Poor Daini, thought Yukihera. If you cannot trust your own cousin, then your battle is already lost.

  Daini's nervous eyes flitted toward the tent opening once more, and he counted the seconds. His hand clenched on the hilt of his weapon, and his light brown eyes flared as the boy sought peace. After a moment, Daini opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost in the sudden rustle of the tent flap.

  Kitsuki Yasu stepped into the tent cautiously, his eyes adjusting to the gloom from the bright sun of the summer day outside. "My lord called for me?"

  "Hai," Daini said swiftly—too swiftly. The Mirumoto daimyo nearly jumped toward his cushion, sitting down on it in a rustle of expensive silk. He wore the hakima made for his sister, tied back to fit his more slender form. "Sit down, Yasu-sam—san. Sit down."

  Yasu cautiously settled on the pillows, a look of concern in his eyes. "My lord, should you not be readying for the battle?"

  "Yes, of course, but there is something more important right now."

  "More ... ?"

  "I need you to perform a task for me, Yasu."

  "Me? Perform a task for a Mirumoto? You think too highly of yourself, Daini. Such pride is not worthy of your new position."

  "Bah," Daini waved his thin hands in the air as if to ward off an invisible spirit. "I do not ask you as my servant, but as my compatriot beneath the banner of our clan." Seeing that Yasu was skeptical, Daini rushed on. "My sister is dead, we all know that."

  "Your testimony—"

  Daini cut him off. "She is dead, but she died bearing my father's sword. I cannot leave the men in this condition. To see me vanish from them would cause them to lose confidence in me. I must remain here and give them a leader." Daini did not even seem to realize he was using Yukihera's words, so easily did they follow his thoughts. "I cannot go into the battlefield to retrieve it. Even if the men could afford to be without me for the hours it would take, to risk my own life would be dangerous. If I die, the Mirumoto have no daimyo, and they will not fight. Your own men are not here."

  "Not a large contingent, no, but I have my guard."

  Waving this aside, Daini plunged forward. "Yukihera believes ... I believe," he said with more confidence, "that you

  should be the one to retrieve my father's sword. It would be in the best interest of the clan. I will stay with the men and raise their spirits and their trust. If the sword is found, then they will know the Fortunes are still with us."

  Yasu's eyes flicked first to the silent Mirumoto Yukihera, and then back to the rambling boy, whose elabora
te hat slid slightly down over his too-thin face. Yukihera could almost hear the Kitsuki daimyo's obvious thoughts: Daini was only sixteen, and already making critical errors. Send a Kitsuki to retrieve his father's sword? Ludicrous.

  Then Yasu looked back at Yukihera, and the young Mirumoto general whispered four words that he knew Daini would not overhear. "Agree. There is more."

  Obviously uncertain whom to trust, Yasu nodded.

  "Excellent!" Daini flushed, believing he had won the point. Proud, he began elaborating on Hitomi's position, where her troops were when she fell. "You must check that entire rise," Daini said. "The sword could be anywhere."

  "Are you certain it was not taken by the Crab?"

  "Oh, no," Daini countered. "It can be touched only by Dragon hands. Its magic prevents anyone who is not loyal to our champion from touching the blade. They say it knows our blood."

  "Interesting magic," Yasu muttered.

  "You will go?"

  "I have not said that, Mirumoto-san."

  "You must. You must!" Daini's impatience colored his voice, and he leaned forward to place one fist on the low table between them. "The sword is everything. I cannot go. What else do you need to hear?"

  Yasu's scorn was apparent. "I need to hear some good reason why my life and the lives of my men should be wasted for your pride."

  Daini reared back as if struck, and his mouth hung open. Twisting it into a snarl, he shouted. "You will go, Kitsuki! I command it!" Pounding on the table, Daini bawled again, "I command it!"

  "You command nothing here, Daini. I am a Kitsuki, not a Mirumoto. Send your own men, if you wish, but I have no duty to you." Standing abruptly, Yasu managed a curt bow before throwing open the flap of the Mirumoto tent. "Think better on your words in the future, Daimyo," he said sharply. "And find your own damned sword." Yasu stormed out of the tent, insulted and furious.

  "He thinks I am nothing more than a boy who wishes his toy returned to him!" Daini fumed.

  "He does not understand, my daimyo," Yukihera said swiftly, standing to follow Yasu. "Allow me to speak with him." Daini nodded, and Yukihera stepped out of the tent, jogging to catch up to Yasu.

  "Let him find it himself," Yasu muttered angrily as Yukihera approached. "The Kitsuki are lapdogs to no one; not the Agasha, not this arrogant ronin general, and certainly not the Mirumoto." His feet pounding the ground beneath him, Kitsuki Yasu marched toward his family's golden banners.

  "Yasu, wait," Yukihera called. "I wish a word with you."

  "Tell me quickly, Mirumoto," Yasu snapped angrily. "For I have litde patience with your family today."

  "Very well. Then I shall tell you without on—without the face that covers our actions. You are a Kitsuki. You can speak freely. Listen as freely, and understand." Yukihera fell into step with the Kitsuki daimyo, keeping his voice lowered as they headed for the outskirts of the encampment. "You know that I have asked Daini to allow you to do this, but you do not know why."

  "The boy is a fool to listen to you. This is madness."

  "Not madness. Pride." Yukihera stopped short, blocking Yasu's path. "The boy is too young, Yasu-sama. We both know that. He watched his sister fall, and his father's hatred prevents him from honoring her spirit."

  "What?"

  "You asked for Hitomi's hand. I believe you loved her." Watching the other samurai's face flush, he continued. "I am correct. You did. Then you understand why Daini—and I— cannot leave her body on that field for the crows and the necromancers. Sukune has forbidden any Mirumoto from looking for her body on the field. He does not wish her to be buried, does not wish her soul to find the peace of Jigoku and the afterlife."

  Shocked, Yasu stared frankly into the Mirumoto's eyes. "Why?"

  "For the same reason he forbade your marriage. Oh, yes, Yasu, I know this. And you would do well to believe me. Hitomi would have married you, but her father forbade it. You were not suited, he said, to rule at her side."

  Yasu's face turned dark, his brows clenching under a wave of anger. "You do not tell the truth."

  "I am a samurai, Yasu. I tell only the truth. What reason would I have to lie? She is dead now. The past is gone. There is nothing to be gained from making you angry at my family. By your own logic, I must be telling you the truth, for a lie would be useless.

  "Hmmph. Then you send me to find Hitomi?"

  Yukihera stepped closer, his voice low. "I send you to break a lie, Kitsuki, as your family is renowned for doing. We do not know. . . ." He paused as another group of samurai passed the Kitsuki daimyo, bowing as they walked by. "Only Daini has given testimony that she is dead. Another samurai— one of the men in the honored daimyo's command—tells a different tale."

  "You accuse Daini of lying?"

  "I accuse no one. I wish to find the truth. If Hitomi is alive, then every second counts. The search for the sword is nothing. You are right. I have persuaded the boy to allow it, out of his own pride and arrogance, but I have asked that you perform this task not to find the sword, but to find her. The Kitsuki are not bound by the traditions of law. Where other samurai must listen to sworn testimony and not question, only your family in all the empire has the right to seek fact and evidence."

  Despite his distaste for the Kitsuki methods, even Yukihera had to admit that they were effective. The Rokugani system of law was clear: A samurai's word was his bond, and if questioned, a duel had to occur in view of a temple of Shinsei the prophet. The victor, obviously blessed by the Fortunes, was deemed correct. This law was inviolate and revered by every family in the empire. Except for the Kitsuki.

  "Yasu-sama, please. Listen to me. Your family is the only one allowed to question the word of a samurai. Your own ancestors tracked down a poisoner and brought him before the court—despite all testimony to the contrary. Your house was founded on asking questions when no one else in the empire would ask them. How is this different? Daini believes one thing, and he will swear to what he believes. But he does not know. None of us know the truth, and without it, we cannot let her spirit rest. Daini will do nothing. If he questions this, he questions himself, and he cannot allow that to be seen. Only the Kitsuki can honorably question the sworn testimony of a samurai without calling for a duel."

  "You believe she is alive?" Yasu asked, hope lighting his features.

  "I cannot say. It is not my place, as a Mirumoto. But where you find her father's katana, I am certain you will also find Hitomi." Yukihera's face was the very model of hope and frustration. "I believe that you loved her, Kitsuki Yasu. Find her."

  In an instant, Yasu made his choice. "Tell your daimyo that 1 will seek his sword."

  "Go with Shinsei, Yasu."

  "I will, my friend. And thank you," Yasu bowed to the Mirumoto, his swords clicking in his obi, "for all you have done."

  As Yasu hurried to find his horse and travel to the battlefield, Yukihera allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

  xxxxxxxx

  The battlefield was littered with corpses—some moving, some still. Zombies marched toward Crab lines, led by foul necromancers with power over their decaying flesh. Yasu crept silendy, leaving his horse behind the first knoll.

  She had to be alive. She had to be.

  From his first days at Mirumoto Academy, he had loved her. Remembering now, he blessed the long fall of he hair. When they had been children, they had held hands and giggled behind shoji screens, playing a game of daimyo and samurai that held some hint of courting. Then came that fateful duel, and Hitomi had cut her glorious hair. They grew older, Hitomi grew harder, and Yasu desired her all the more. He wanted to marry her, but her brother Satsu stood in the way. Not as some men do, with protective eyes and a frown, but from the otherworld, Jigoku, where the spirits go.

  Sighing, Yasu moved from rock to rock, using the light of the full moon to navigate his path. No lanterns were needed, and it was easy to recognize the frozen looks of horror and pain on the faces of the dead men he passed.

  Some of were his own men.

 
Yasu closed his eyes to death and remembered Hitomi once more. He remembered the dagger slash as her long hair fell on the tournament field. She had been eight years old. Eight, and full of anger and hatred toward a world that had taken away her only hero. Nothing Yasu did, or could have done, could change her back to the laughing young girl he had known. The days of touching palms were done. A sword filled her hand, and revenge stole her heart. How different it could have been, if the Crab and Dragon had not met for that fateful duel in Bayushi lands.

  But they did, and their insult was met. Yasu hardly remembered the reason for the duel—only the outcome. The Dragon resisted the duel until the last moment, when a drunken Hida Yakamo and his men did something disgraceful to Satsu's young bride—some said abduction, some said worse. Sleeping in the child's room, surrounded by shoji screens, Yasu could still hear the low tones of the son of the Mirumoto daimyo and the Dragon Champion speaking late into the night. He could not hear their words, but he understood their tone. Something terrible had occurred, or was occurring. The voices were low, and cold, and dark.

  The next morning, the Crab killed Satsu. There were no repercussions from the Dragon.

  It was over ... but not for her.

  Yasu swallowed his emotions, trying to force his mind back to his work. He missed her ... how he missed her. Hitomi was no longer the smiling young girl he remembered but a cold daimyo on her ivory throne. Her laughter came rarely these days, if at all, and her smile was as cold as the mountaintops of his homeland. But under her armor, her heart was still sitting in the center of Satsu's tournament field, weeping blood upon her brother's grave.